Whispering Pines Rehabilitation Center
by QuietViolence
Summary: AU, Modern Day, Slash. [AN: I'm leaving this up a while longer so you can check it out if you really want to, but be warned it's very childish. For a better written version with plot, check out the rewrite.]
1. Chapitre Une

Whispering Pines By QuietViolence  
  
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Warnings: Slash, Mature Themes, Mature Language  
  
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When I walked into my house that morning, my mother was sitting on our family room sofa - the one that really needs new upholstery - talking to some tall, thin woman in a navy business suit that was most likely from Neimans, but it could have been Saks too. Either way, I knew she wasn't short on money. So Miss Expensive-Navy-Suit was sitting there, talking about something with my mom. They stopped talking when I walked in, and my mom had red around her eyes, so I could assume only one thing - they were discussing me, and what to do about my little "issue."  
  
"I really think you should look at this brochure. Whispering Pines is just wonderful, haven't heard a bad thing about it in quite a while," she told my mother, holding up a colorful tri-fold brochure. She glanced up at me and her eyes scanned my pink streaked blonde hair, shiny silver tank and rock star tight jeans before she said in a whisper, "They're more excepting of the, well, different types."  
  
I laughed out loud when I heard this. She couldn't even say the word. I knew more than anything that this woman would hate to hear herself being made a fool. "The word is homosexual, miss," I said over my shoulder as I walked up the stairs.  
  
From my room I could hear the ending of their conversation, followed by brisk steps out the door from black high-heeled shoes.  
  
"Jayce, can I have a talk with you?" came my mothers voice soon after. I sighed, knowing what was coming. I strode downstairs, trying to hold back the smile from pissing that woman off earlier. Homophobic people amused me, I'd moved past the stage when I felt insulted by them. "I know that you're extremely comfortable with your sexuality," she stated nervously. I never understood why it made her nervous, it wasn't as if we didn't have this discussion every day.  
  
"But that doesn't mean you have to mention it to agitate people," I finished for her. "You know, I figured you'd understand me better than you do. It's like if you were talking to an Anti-Semite, would you just let them diss you and then leave?"  
  
"Well," my mom said, drawing in a sharp breath. Saw this one coming. "You do broadcast it in a, well, interesting way."  
  
She really didn't realize that this was just what I wanted, right? To attract attention to my sexuality, to prove that I didn't have a problem with it, that it wasn't wrong? A grin broke out onto my face as I spoke, "That's nice and all, mom, but my makeup is rubbing off from the heat, and I figure I might as well reapply it."  
  
Without another word, my mother turned around and stormed off, the brochure from earlier still in her hand. It was when I saw the words "Whispering Pines Rehabilitation Center" on it that I realized I should have been kinder to my mom. Regular meetings with a councilor was bad enough, I couldn't live with it.  
  
Sure enough she walked back in the room later, saying, "I just got off the phone with the owner of Whispering Pines, you're leaving Sunday. Start packing."  
  
Talk about harsh. Imagine if your mom just came into your room and told you that in two days you were being sent to New Jersey - which is halfway across the country I might add - for drug rehab.  
  
That night I grimly packed up my things. My stuff took up nearly four bags, and bedding and towels were provided at the facility. I had to have my clothes: multiple tight and bright shirts, about seven different pairs of designer jeans, platform shoes, etc; my jewelry, which meant my seventeen different earrings for my thrice pierced ear as well as all my bracelets and necklaces; my hair dye, all six colors; and my tackle box sized makeup container. Such is the closet of a gay man.  
  
Of course, my closet used to contain something much more important than my purses. My Ecstasy. That's right, drugs. Oh, come to think of it, my pot was in my closet too. The alcohol went in the mini-fridge under the bed, and if I ever got anything else it was in the second drawer up on my dresser on the far left. And that's why my parents are sending me to rehab. To help me get over this little "problem."  
  
Either way, I was packed and ready to go come six-thirty Sunday morning. My plane left at eight, so I'd been up since five getting ready. When it was time for me to leave so that I'd make the plane (though, come to think of it, I would have rather I missed it), I sauntered downstairs, wrote a quick goodbye note to my parents (who were sleeping rather than seeing me off like most parents would have), and hopped in my car.  
  
The drive wasn't that bad, no one is ever on the road that early on weekend mornings and definitely no one is traveling. So I ended up at the airport at seven-oh-five exactly, giving me over a half hour to spend. I ran to the Starbucks, ordering a frappocino from the guy behind the counter.  
  
He looked up with interest after he took my order. "Heading off to Whispering Pines?" he asked.  
  
"What's it to you?" I retorted. I didn't exactly like to publicize my drug problems as much as I did my sexual preference.  
  
"Calm down, boy, you aren't the only one headed there this morning. I, for one, am going up there as soon as my shift ends." He finished adding the whipped cream to the top of the frozen drink. "Which is right about. now." He pulled off the apron and hopped over the counter, handing me my drink.  
  
I relaxed, knowing that at least a cool person was going to be there. "So how'd you figure it?" I asked.  
  
"Why else would a seventeen year old boy be in an airport at seven on a Sunday morning?"  
  
"Ah, I see." I surveyed the guy. He was wearing ripped and baggy jeans, a t- shirt that said "The Clash," and a black bandana was tied around his head. He had dirty-blonde hair that covered his eyes. "And your name would be?"  
  
"Kelly, Jack Kelly. Well, that's what I'm known as anyway. And you?"  
  
"Jayce Taylor. Most people call me Dutchy though," I added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
He grinned a little, making his lip piercing more noticeable than before. With piercing in mind I noticed he had his eyebrow done as well. "I take it you're Dutch then?"  
  
"Nope, from the Ukraine actually. It's a sad, sad story beginning early in my childhood," I joked, grinning. "Nah, actually it's from seventh grade, when we were drawing flags. I tried to draw the French flag, and ended up doing it upside down, which is of course the Dutch flag. And you know Jr. High, they found that hysterical. And I've been known as Dutchy for nearly five years since."  
  
"Man, that's gay." He paused a second later and looked at me. "I mean, stupid. Sorry 'bout that."  
  
I felt myself smile. "Trust me, the only thing about your opinions on homosexuality that upset me is that you aren't gay. You're damn sexy."  
  
"You better not be in my room, Dutch boy," he responded, not at all caught off guard by my comment. "Ever been here before?" I shook my head. "No? This'll be my.." He counted on his fingers quickly. "second year and seventh visit here. I only have to come back every once in a while to check up on me, but they busted me again."  
  
I laughed. "What you in for, anyway?"  
  
"Definitely have a bit of an alcohol problem, that's all. C'mon, let's head to the gate," he said, leading me towards A24. "And you?"  
  
"Drugs. Ecstasy, pot, heroin, crack.. You name it, I've probably done it. Never had an overdose, and my main vice - the ecstasy - isn't even addictive. But apparently my parents are doing this 'for my own safety' and I'll 'thank them some day,' and all that other bullshit."  
  
"Ah, of course. Overprotective parents. It's actually my older sister who checked me in, my dad was too messed up all the time to notice. Either way, it's hell here, that it is."  
  
"Now boarding rows fifteen through ten," the loudspeaker announced. I glanced at my ticket. 11A. "Guess I'll see you when we get there," I told him, grabbing my messenger bag. I sat myself down in the plane, grabbing my headphones. Jane's Addiction flooded through my ears as I pushed the play button.  
  
A smile made its way across my face when I realized that I'd already made someone who might possibly be considered a friend.  
  
Then I remembered where I was headed.  
  
If only I'd known.  
  
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A/N: All right, a number of comments: This is my first attempt at a modern-day fic. Bear with me while I get my grips on it. This is my first attempt at a slash fic. Bear with me. My drug, eating disorder, suicide, etc. information should be correct, but if it's not feel free to correct me.  
  
CC: Open CC, but I'll only add your character if I like it. I reserve the right to change your character to fit plot lines better. Tell me: Name Nickname & Story Age Appearance Personality Reason(s) to be in Whispering Pines Anything else you want me to know. 


	2. Chapitre Deux

I stepped off the plane into the terminal, a messenger bag hanging at my side with my CD player inside, the headphone cord leading up to my neck, where I'd set them. I saw Jack across the way, walking towards a man in a bright blue shirt, with khaki pants and a clipboard. Upon closer inspection I could see that on the right corner "Whispering Pines" was embroidered into the shirt. Figuring this was my destination, I approached the man who stared at me blankly for a moment.  
  
"Name's Jayce Taylor. Am I on your list?" I said, pointing to the clipboard. He checked it and nodded. "All right, let's get this show on the road, I need to get there and fix my hair."  
  
He glared at me, obviously annoyed by my flamboyance. "We're waiting for the rest of the guests."  
  
"Inmates," Jack said under his breath, coughing. I smiled, realizing how cute his whole rebel-without-a-cause act was. But don't get me wrong, this isn't some wayward love story of a gay boy falling for a straight boy. And Jack didn't seem like the relationship type anyway; he probably spent every night in a different girl's bed. But that's all just speculation really, for all I know he could have been married. Listen, the point of this paragraph was that I wasn't going to fall in love with this kid.  
  
Yes, that's it. Okay, now that that's done with, we can get moving again..  
  
"Hey, Theory. Back so soon?" Jack said, greeting a short girl who was approaching. I looked her up and down, more to inspect her fashion sense than her body. what?? I'm gay, remember?! She was wearing a short, solid black kilt and a black t-shirt featuring a picture of a faerie on the front. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a pony-tail and streaked with blue. A messenger bag not at all unlike my own was slung across her body and it was obvious that every man within a fifty yard radius was instantly drawn to her chest.  
  
"Jack! Man, I've missed you!" she said, running and hugging him. "What've you been up to?" She paused for a moment before looking serious. "You haven't been relapsing, have you?"  
  
"No, MOM, I'm just back in to keep myself from relapsing. And to see you of course." He picked her up into another hug, grinning. She fought for a moment until he set her down. "I love you," he said before kissing her passionately.  
  
Theory smiled. "Nice to know you still feel the same. But seriously-not in front of the staff. Can't get myself fired from this job, it's hard to find work when you were too doped up to take your SATs." After a moment she glanced in my direction. "And who is this handsome young man, Jack?"  
  
Jack looked back at me. I hated it when people talked about me as if I wasn't there. "I'm Dutchy. And I take it your name's Theory?"  
  
"Well, Ashton really, but that's my nickname. Call me what you will. For instance, Jacky-boy here tends to prefer 'sex goddess,' but that's just him." She grinned as Jack fumbled to cover up what was obviously a great story I'd have to ask someone about later. "Anyway, what're you in here for?"  
  
And thus began the discussion I was sure we'd have many more times after this, explaining what exactly it was that we'd done to get locked up. Jack and his alcohol, Theory and her previous drug problems, me and my-well, me and my everything.  
  
"Anyone else coming, Mr. Snyder?" Theory asked the man with the clipboard. "Or can we be off now?"  
  
The man seemed annoyed that a girl whom he found so unfit for society - he was certainly glaring at her scarred arms - was attempting to do his job for him. "This is everyone. Now c'mon, let's get going. Mr. Kelly and Miss Oxford can explain the rules to you en route."  
  
When the three of us were seated and belted into the back of the van, the two returning veterans began to brief me on the "Code of Conduct" at Whispering Pines.  
  
"The rules are as follows," Jack said, sounding an awful lot like the headmaster at the Catholic school I'd been booted out of two years ago for being gay. "Any person caught on premises with ANY harmful substance - be it their own vice or that belonging to someone else - they will be immediately expelled from the program and once again sent to court."  
  
"Because we all know that when people have drug problems it's in their best interest to send them away from rehab, now isn't it?" Theory said with an edge of hatred in her voice. "Anyway, moving on . . . Inappropriate conduct between guests is strictly forbidden. Boys must stay in the 2nd story hallway and girls must stay in the 3rd floor hall."  
  
"Other than that, you'll just have to figure it out on your own, because I don't really care if you know them or not," Jack said, then turned away from me, obviously not too hot on the concept of going back to Whispering Pines.  
  
I noticed him staring at my highlights and glitter for a large percentage of the first half-hour of the drive, prompting me to question him about it. "What're ya staring at?" Hey, I never said I was very eloquent.  
  
"You're just so . . . gay," Jack stated. Hell, he is almost as ineloquent as I am. When he saw the blank look on my face he hurried to cover it up. "That's-that's not how I-I meant you're really open about . . . Hell, don't take that offensively."  
  
Theory interrupted his almost painful display at this point in an effort to save his last shred of dignity. "What my idiotic comrade is trying to say is that Whispering Pines isn't exactly the most accepting of different people," she said with strategically chosen words.  
  
"You'd make one good lawyer, ya know that?" I told her. I didn't know what else to say. I wasn't offended, exactly, but I'd never really considered that I would have to watch myself here as much as I watch myself at school. I mean, aren't druggies supposed to be accepting of people's differences? It's not like they're model citizens either. "But thanks for letting me know ahead of time. I'll just roll with the punches though, eh?"  
  
"If you say so. let me know if you ever need to borrow more masculine clothes," Jack said. I didn't give him the look knowing how uncomfortable it made him since I knew he meant well.  
  
"We're here!" the man shouted from the driver's seat when he parked the van in a large concrete parking lot. Multiple spaces were left empty, so it was obvious that there weren't too many people coming in on this particular day. "Now get your stuff and get in there," he said gruffly. He picked up a couple bags and I noted that he intentionally grabbed those of Theory and Jack, leaving me to carry all of my own. Theory definitely wasn't lying about this whole homophone thing, was she?  
But whatever, nothing I wasn't used to. I wasn't really concerned with their opinions of my sexual orientation; I was a little more stressed over what they were planning on doing about my addictions. I looked around the hallway, and everyone there seemed to be dead, so obviously craving an escape into the wonderful world of drugs and alcohol. This was going to be a long three months; that much was for sure.  
  
Before I knew it I was climbing up to the third story level of the building, bags in hand, and knocking on a plain white door. "Kallias?" he said, saying the name of the boy who he was to share his room with according to the sheet of paper in his hand.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm in here," a voice rang out from the other side of the door. "What do you want?" he asked, probably without making any approach to let me into the room.  
  
"It's Jayce," I said. When he didn't say anything back, I continued, "Your new roommate."  
  
"I see," he said, and I could hear the shuffling of feet until he reached the door. With a click, the door slid open to reveal Kallias Davidson, who I was going to have to live with for the next few months.  
  
After catching a sight of him, I don't think I minded so much though. His dark hair formed adorable - well, I don't know what the word for them is. They weren't curls, so much as waves. Whatever they were, they were gorgeous, as was his face beneath the round glasses he was wearing. He was dressed pretty nicely, I could tell he was probably one of those high-end cocaine addicts who finally got caught by the police and were only here to prevent it from marring their parents' social appearance. And yet, something in the softness in his chocolate-colored eyes made him seem different from the rest of those sorts of boys.  
  
But back to reality . . . So Kallias showed me the room, which looks a lot like a cross between a college dorm and a hospital. The walls are all ER white, as are the bed sheets, but there are a small private bathroom and kitchenette in the room as well. I didn't really know what to make of it, actually. Most of the time you can tell a lot about a place by it's bedrooms, but they didn't seem to want to give anything away ahead of time.  
  
"So, truly, how bad is it?" I asked Kallias as I set my suitcases down on my bed. "I mean, you figure it'd be total hell, since it's rehab and all, but Jack checked himself back in voluntarily, so how bad can it be?"  
  
Kallias seemed to have a bit of a grin on his face as he spoke. "Jack came back, eh? Knew he couldn't stand to stay away. Want the truth about Whispering Pines, though? Atrocious."  
  
"Wait, but Kallias, then why would Jack come back?" I asked, confused.  
  
"First off, don't call me Kallias. I'm not exactly on good terms with the people that gave me that name. I much prefer Specs. But that aside, Jack came back because he's entirely in love with Theory, and she works here. When he left a while back we told him he'd come back for her. And of course, we were right." He paused for a while and we sat together in silence, while I absorbed that information and reflected on everything I'd learned that day. "But either way, it's time for group counseling right now, so let's go."  
  
And thus began my first day of drug rehab . . .  
  
SHOUTOUTS!!  
  
Shot Hunter: Glad you liked it. Sorry this update took a while, but I wanted a good chapter. Hope it's up to your standards.  
  
Shade: Thanks for the great review. I'm glad you like my writing style, my English teachers never seem to love it quite so much . . . Though maybe if I showed them this they'd leave me alone for a while. Haha. But yeah, thanks for the nice review.  
  
Klover: Guess you'll really have to wait another chapter or two to find out why most of them are in Whispering Pines. I meant to put it in this, but I wanted to get out another chapter before people managed to COMPLETELY forget the premise of the story. Glad you liked it though!  
  
shinigami nanoda: Ah, but of course. Flamer!Dutchy, the perfect addition to any story. XD But yeah, glad you like.  
  
studentnumber24601: Yesh, I was looking for a new plot, and this just popped into my head. Glad people don't think it's too weird. I was a little apprehensive about using flamer!dutchy myself, but he just sorta came out. I'm happy you like it though, since you're extraordinarily talented yourself.  
  
Tanzanite: Good to know you liked it. Hope you like this chapter too.  
  
Raven: I'm glad you like it. I'm not making any promises about cc's yet since I still have to read through a lot of them, so bear with me. But thanks for the review.  
  
Genesis: Thanks. Glad you liked it. As I said to Raven, I'm not sure what CC's I'm using, but we'll find out soon enough. Yeah, thanks for the nice review.  
  
Nakaia: Glad you like it. Sorry it took me so long to update, things have been crazy in mon vrai vie and so it's been hard to update.  
  
Shaku-jou: Yeah, cc's can really take over the story, that's why I'm also taking the right to veto what I don't like or edit it into something that works better. Glad you like it though. And I'm glad you find it coherent, I always worry I jump around a bit too much.  
  
Lady Kayura: Hmmm . . . I could have a lot of fun with Arin, ya know? Thanks bunches for the character, he's the only one of the cc's I've decided I definitely wanna use. Glad you like the story too. 


	3. Chapitre Trois

"Welcome, boys and girls. Let's begin the day with introductions," said a forty-something year old woman with obscenely fluffy and shockingly red hair. She seemed to believe she was some sort of modernized, cheesy turn-of-the-century showgirl; her Pepto-Bismol colored shirt oozed Vaudeville, and even her skirt, a knee-length, leg-hugging black number with a purple flounce across the bottom, seemed to accent the theme. It was unreal, and made me feel pretty sick to my stomach. "I'll begin. My name is Medda Larkson, and I'm your main advisor here at Whispering Pines. I've never polluted my body with any sort of toxin, nor have I ever harmed myself, or had an eating disorder; however, I've worked with many children who have so I'm sure I can answer all questions and help you completely until full recovery."  
  
Just as I was thinking of every possible way to curse at this woman, she leaned over and whispered into my ear. "I have to give that speech. They record sessions. So don't worry, I'm not that uptight. And I don't hate you for your mistakes, unlike some."  
  
I had to hide a grin- I was a little worried they might be videotaping us as well. What?!? You never know!  
  
"Well, umm. I'm Jayce Taylor, but you can call me Dutchy I guess. Most people do. I'm seventeen years old. My main vice was E, but I tried pretty much everything short of heroin. And that's only because of my severe fear of needles. Yeah. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I like to kiss boys." I made that last comment because I knew everyone in the room was staring at my apparel, and I liked to shake people up a bit.  
  
"That'll do, Mr. Taylor, that'll do," Medda said, though I could see a small smile creeping up on her face. "Next!" she shouted, and the person on my left started to talk.  
  
"The name's Stephanie Karlyak, also known as Fluke, age twenty-one, and I guess you can say I'm pretty screwed up. It started with self- mutilation and depression, but I got over that. Of course, then I launched into bulimia, which totally screwed me over. And then my friend told me that cocaine made you lose weight, so I started in on that. And I got thrown into another rehab center for that, and then I got into alcohol at parties, because I had to avoid the drugs. And so I'm in here for alcoholism, I guess." This response came from a girl with a cynical look in her light brown eyes that were so accented by the chin-length almost black hair surrounding her face.  
  
"That's nice, Miss Karlyak. I hope we can help you out without driving you through yet another painful ordeal like these," Medda said, then motioned to the next person to continue.  
  
"Louis Ballat. I'm nineteen years old a week from tomorrow. I'm missing an eye, what the hell do you think my problem is? Do I need to spell it out for you? C-U-T-T-I-N-G." He paused for a second. "Sorry, I came off as a bastard when I said that. I'm just tired, don't hate me." Okay, that guy was definitely a bit off. A few mind altering drugs, perhaps?  
  
Before Medda could get in any comments, the next girl cut her off. Her hair was a raven black, but it was obviously dyed. Probably done at home in the bathroom sink. "They call me Cheri DeWolfe. I'm sixteen years old, and not exactly happy to be here. But of course, the police made me, so here I am. Yeah, you want to know why I'm here? Cutting and alcohol, my friends. And that's all you need to know." She said this entire speech with an intimidating glare in dark brown eyes, daring anyone to say something about that.  
  
"I'm not even going to get into my real name, just call me Specs. Everyone else always did. Cocaine was my downfall, in case you were wondering. And my father shipped me off here so it would seem like he was dealing with a bit of teenage rebellion. Wouldn't want to tarnish his precious reputation in society, now would we?" Ah ha, so my suspicions about Specs were correct. He was indeed a rich little boy snorting coke. But he spoke with a bitter edge, proving the other comment I'd made; he definitely didn't like being the hoity-toity boy he'd been raised to be. "Oh, and kissing boys is fun, now ain't it, Dutchy?"  
  
Now I must say, I'm a pretty coordinated boy, and I rarely lose my cool. But the instant those words escaped Specs' mouth I definitely lost all that. My chair fell completely backwards, crashing to the ground with a loud bang. I gave him a questioning look and he just grinned at me. Now this'll be an interesting room arrangement, eh?  
  
So I rounded out the rest of the session without too many more surprises. There was the typical explanation about how even though it seemed like you couldn't live without it, [insert personal problem here] is not the answer. Honestly, some creativity would be quite welcome here.  
  
After counseling there was lunch. I headed in the direction of the large mass of kids, assuming that they were headed for the cafeteria, since I had no idea where I was going. But as I walked I noticed that a certain brunette beauty was walking off another way alone. I hastened my step and veered to the left to join him. As I walked up behind him I whispered in his ear, "Going somewhere?"  
  
"I was hoping you'd follow," was all he said as he continued to lead me up a flight of stairs and towards our bedroom. I was sincerely hoping that wasn't our destination, since I wasn't sure I could control myself around him now, and my wish was granted. We instead headed through another doorway past our own and up a small set of spiral stairs. The steps carried us up two stories, and outside onto the roof.  
  
"Hey! Specs! Get over here! Who's the new boy?" a curly-haired Italian called from his perch on the roof. He seemed pretty short, and baby- faced, but it was obvious he wasn't as young as he looked at first glance.  
  
"This here's Dutchy, he's new today. Roommate," he told the boy who had spoken a couple others who I noticed then.  
  
I noticed the other boys appraising me, and I was slightly uncomfortable. I realize I often check out other guys, and that I've been looked over myself a number of times. But this wasn't just seeing what was there, this was a pack of animals circling their prey.  
  
"Doesn't seem to be lacking," the boy from earlier commented, grinning pointedly at the crotch of my tight jeans. "Name's Racetrack Higgins, kid. Welcome to the jungle."  
  
"Also known as the GDU, but that's beside the point," another one commented. I glanced over at him. He was wearing a light pink button down shirt and khaki pants. He was a brunette, and extraordinarily slender. "You can call me Skittery, or Skitts. My real name's Jordan Horner, but I really don't like that name. So call me Skittery."  
  
I heard a laugh from somewhere to the right of Skittery, and I turned and faced the person it had come from. I was met with chocolate brown eyes and an amazingly sexy body. C'mon, he wasn't wearing a shirt, what was I supposed to think about?  
  
But apparently this boy was off limits, because a second later I saw Blink from earlier stealing a quick kiss from the boy he called Mush. No big deal really, I had Kallias-I mean Specs-after all. Well, I didn't have him yet, but I would.  
"So, this GDU . . . what the hell is it?" I asked, really confused. As far as I can tell it was a bunch of boys sitting out on the roof of rehab doing absolutely nothing.  
  
"Shit with acronyms, eh?" Race said, grinning again. "Well, if you couldn't tell from those two--" he pointed to Blink, who had his arms wrapped around Mush, who was sitting in his lap. "-the first letter stands for Gay . . ."  
  
"Gay Dumbfucks Urinate?" I questioned jokingly.  
  
"Close enough. Gay Druggies Unite," Specs explained. He was a bit uptight, wasn't he? But I knew he had a fun side, I'd noticed that during the counseling introductions. "I figure you qualify, right?"  
  
I looked around in disbelief. "You all have a secret society of gays?" I asked, still in shock. Sure, I realized there was probably another gay person somewhere in here, but I never would've figured there'd be an organization. Not that I was complaining; I had to admit I'd been pretty afraid of being attacked every since the whole Trev Broudy incident. That was when it came real to me. But I don't like to think about that, because it scares the shit out of me.  
  
"Sure. Why the hell not?" Skittery commented.  
  
"And what exactly do you do up here anyway? It's not like we can drink or smoke or anything. And I'm pretty sure a massive orgy would be noticed from the ground . . ."  
  
"Sit, talk, be gay. But enough explaining, let's just be. And who said no smoking?" Race pulled a cigar out of his jacket pocket alone with a match. He struck it against the sole of his shoe before lighting the cigar and taking a large puff. "So, sexiest actor?"  
  
"Only one? Damn this is hard," Skitts said, laughing. "I'd have to say . . . that guy from Bend It Like Beckham. Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, I think. Man, he has a nice body." After that we kind of lost Skittery for a while, and I'm not quite sure I'd want to know what he was thinking.  
  
Mush was next up, seeing as he was nearly bursting with the energy of saying. That boy was definitely pretty young at heart. He was really probably a year or so younger than me, but he was innocent and hyper like a ten-year-old. "Paul Walker!" he shouted. "That perpetual five o'clock shadow and amazing tan definitely make it. Plus, he has a nice body." I laughed at that, as did the rest of us, considering we could say the exact same thing about Mush, minus the facial hair.  
  
"You think that, but no one can compete with Ewan McGregor. I mean, that guy's gorgeous, and he can sing like no other. Worship his almighty power," Kid Blink said, but he disintegrated into laughter by the time he got to a part about kissing Ewan's feet. "You next, new kid," he said, staring straight at me.  
  
All eyes on me, I paused for a second, unsure of what to say. "Oh c'mon, gimme a second. This is an extremely important decision, you know. I'd have to say Johnny Depp."  
  
"Johnny Depp now or Benny and Joon Johnny Depp?" Race asked.  
  
"Benny and Joon," I answered confidently. I may like older men, but after a guy passes his 40th birthday, and is straight with children, he kind of loses his appeal. "And you, Specs?"  
  
"Sure, all you guys have decent choices, but I'm more into suave and debonair kind of men. For instance," he paused for dramatic effect. "Pierce Brosnan." I grinned, so typical of the rich boy to pick James Bond. "Just you left, Race. Think you can compete with Brosnan?"  
  
"Oh sure I can. I've got the one guy that will rock all your socks off. Max Casella, actor extraordinaire. You know, some people say I kind of look like him," he told us.  
  
Everyone went silent and analyzed Racetrack's face in hopes of finding a bit of Max Casella anywhere in his face. After a moment, Blink commented, "No, no you really don't." We all agreed with a shake of our heads.  
  
All the while I couldn't help but think how lucky I was to be up here instead of stuck on my own for my entire stay here. Sure, I wasn't really supposed to be doing this, but who really cares about the rules they set. It's a prison, we should at least get a tiny bit of fun.  
  
Oh well, I was going to get fun whether they liked it or not.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~  
  
A/N: Yay, this chapter's over. You have no idea how long it took me to do the actor scene. Like whoa. I don't really know where the idea for the GDU came in, I just looked up at the page and there it was, so I hope you don't find it too random. Oh, and ABOUT THE CASTING CALL, if your character hasn't come in yet, it doesn't mean that they won't, I'm just introducing new characters slowly, so it's not all choked into one chapter.  
  
SHOUTOUTS:  
  
Thistle- Glad you like it. Hope you still like the characters, they seem to get harder to keep in character as you add more.  
  
Nakaia- Yeah, well, hopefully this update being more quickly was good. I'm still not as good as I used to be, but whatever. Makes me happy you still like it.  
  
Hotshot- Well, this kinda cleared up the Specs thing, now didn't it. As well as a few things about our other favorite newsies. I have to admit, I was a little worried about using flamer!dutchy at first since he's not exactly an original character, but he just sorta ended up coming out in one of my writing exercises and wouldn't leave my brain. Stupid persistent protagonists. Haha. Glad you like it though.  
  
Raven- Oh, I know. I love Theory and Jack, too. I have to write more of them, they're so fun to mess with. But yeah, glad you like it.  
  
Lady Kayura- Yesh. I've decided that Arin's going to come in and be new in a couple of chapters, so don't sweat him not being in the GDU. I have to do that whole, limiting of characters so that they're manageable thing.  
  
Studentnumber24601- First off, did I get the numbers right? Because I did it off of memory, since I kind of printed out my reviews and left off your penname. Oh yeah, I'm a smart one. But yesh, prettyboy!specs and flamer!dutchy make me happy too. But alas, I have a feeling I'm going to make them struggle before I make them happy. Whatever. Glad you still like it though.  
  
kellyanne- I have to say that's the first time a girl's ever said they wanted to have my babies. Haha. Glad you like though. Makes me feel special because I 3 your stuff too. Yup, yup. Hope you like this chapter too.  
  
Klover- Ah, yes. The infamous "Review while on sugar high" Aren't they fun? Hehe. 


	4. Chapitre Quatre

A/N: I hate putting these at the beginning of the story, but I feel a need to point out that the first part of this (the introduction of one of the characters) was written by Slider (because she wanted to write her own intro) and then changed a bit by me. So if you hate it, yell at her, not me. xD.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Nothing really happened that first week after I arrived. A slight bit of counseling with Ms. Larkson - as the administration insists we call her - which was apparently to prepare us for the true counseling and recovery and quite a few meetings with the GDU, in which all we did was sit around and talk about absolutely nothing.  
  
So anyway, one day, we were all sitting for a quiet dinner; well, as quiet as it could be with that many people crammed into one cafeteria. The meat loaf was overly cooked, and it was nearly impossible to eat it with our sporks - apparently people with drug addictions aren't allowed to have knifes - so I wasn't exactly having the best time of it. I hate meat loaf anyway, who invited it? I'll shoot him. And if he's dead, I'll dig him up and then shoot him. As I was wondering what to do about my meat loaf, the doors burst open with a loud clash of metal handles hitting the walls.  
  
Three large, albino men ran into the room, wearing what looked a lot like a bad copy of SWAT uniforms. "Have any of you seen a girl in a straight jacket running around?" Okay, maybe they had a reason for the SWAT uniforms.  
  
Either way, silence remained throughout the room as I tried desperately to finish my meat loaf, but it was to no avail. I was more likely to become straight than to manage to digest this "food."  
  
"I'll take that as a no," the largest of the three men said before they ran out of the room, racing down the hallway to find their captive.  
  
Less than a minute later, one of them men burst back into the room, the insane girl in his arms. She was indeed wearing a straight jacket, and was kicking wildly to get away. Suddenly, she slowed her insanity, as a smirk grew larger on her face. Without any warning, she bent down and bit him ferociously before delivering a well-placed kick to his groin, all while smiling in faux innocence. The man doubled over in pain, and accidentally released the girl from his grasp. As he struggled to get up she pranced over to the table, and I couldn't help but think how much she reminded me of Specs doing his happy dance.  
  
She jumped up on the table, laying on her back she pushed herself down it. She stopped in front of Skitts, turning to him with an affable grin and started to sing, "I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from your head to your toes!" She began to back up and then randomly wrapped her legs around his neck. She pulled him onto the table and on top of her. She at above him, rolling her body. "And I wanna cruise from the bed down to the to the flo'" She leaned closer "And I wanna," She licked his lips twice as Skitts said," ah, ah." She was yanked back by a security guard, "Make it so good I don't wana leave, but I gotta." With this she was dragged out of the doors, but as they were pulling her out she finished, "Know what's your fantasy!"  
  
When the doors closed and we figured she was gone, the doors flew open once again, as if they'd been kicked by someone. "DAMN THE MAN!" the girl shouted, before once again disappearing into the abyss.  
  
Caught up in the spirit, a very skinny boy who had hardly even touched his dinner stood up and shouted, "SAVE THE EMPIRE!"  
  
For a few moments, the entire cafeteria went silent while people stared. Skittery was grinning from ear to ear; I guess the guys weren't kidding about the whole bisexual thing. I, in turn, went back to my meat loaf, wondering if it would ever reach my stomach, or if I would be forced to break out the secret stash-of candy.  
  
"Dudes, seriously, get over to our rooms after check in, we're going to show Dutchy here the girls," Racetrack announced one evening during our half hour of free time.  
  
Specs seemed to get a little annoyed with Race about this, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. "Do you remember the last time guys were caught down there? Do you think they had fun scrubbing all the floors and windows in the place?" he ask. Ah, maybe that was why he was annoyed.  
  
"Yes, but you see, Specsie-baby, we are the fags of Whispering Pines. I sincerely doubt even Mr. Snyder would assume we were down there for sexual purposes," Race explained his reasoning.  
  
"Speak for yourself! I can do whomever the hell I want. I'm not conformed to the boundaries of choosing one or the other like everyone else." That was Skittery, of course. And I think we can be pretty sure that he was referring to a certain speed-addicted freak from dinner the night before.  
  
I laughed happily, "You have a point there, though. But are the girls really worth meeting?"  
  
"Specsie, honey, tell Dutchy here about the girls of Whispering Pines," Racetrack said. Grrr . . . I was starting to really get annoyed with this midget Italian who kept hitting up on my man. Okay, so not technically my man, but we were getting there.  
  
The adorable boy racked his brain for something to say, which only made him look even cuter than before. "They're . . . interesting. You see, they're just fun. And they have a bit of an obsession with gay guys, so we're really loved over there. It's amusing to watch them, and watch them with Skitts. Since they regard all bi guys as, 'Gay guys we can date!'"  
  
"Count me in, I still can't see Skittery with a girl. Well, other than random straight-jacketed girls who try to rape him on cafeteria tables," I said.  
  
"Okay, Specs and Dutchy's room at half past eleven. Be there or be square," Blink stated, closing the discussion.  
  
"You so did not just say 'or be square'" Skittery said, laughing. It really wasn't that funny, but he was probably sick of hearing us make fun of him.  
  
Blink nodded in mock sadness. "Yes, I did. And now my status in your eyes has been lowered. How can I ever live this way?" After this, instantly snapped back to normal. "Yeah, why did I say that?" he asked himself.  
  
"Because you're so cute when you're being a loser," Mush answered, and kissed him softly and sweetly on his mouth. I was starting to wonder if Mush could do anything without being soft and sweet. But I will say that had I been the one with Blink, I would definitely have had him lying on my bed naked, not simply kissing him lightly and saying sweet - well, sort of sweet, anyway - things to him while hanging out with some other guys.  
  
So, we retreated back to our rooms, and started getting ready to get into bed. I followed my standard beauty regime, which always made Specs laugh. When the neon numbers on my beside clock glowed eleven, I hopped under my covers, waiting for Medda or one of the others to come and make sure we were in bed, like good little boys and girls. Little did they know what went on in some of the bedrooms throughout the place after they left.  
  
"Hey guys, it's Theory," the girl entering the room said. "I'm checking in on everyone tonight, so you guys can leave as soon as everyone's here. But hey, make sure you can get Jack to visit me, eh?"  
  
"How'd you know? Oh well, never mind that. Love ya, Theory," I told her. And it was true, I loved her a lot, but as a sister. She was just so great to all of us, even though I could tell she wasn't a big fan of Specs. I mean, she helped us sneak out and break one of the cardinal rules of her workplace.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Have fun." And with that, she was gone. Which of course meant the others should be in our room in about ten minutes.  
  
I turned to Specs. "I'm already dressed, so I'm just going to go fix my hair," I told him. He gave my outfit the once over - black leather pants and a tight black wife beater - before shaking his head. I took my now purple streaked hair and brushed it delicately. I didn't bother with the make-up today though; I did start to calm down my look a bit. It wasn't me really, I was just trying to get a rise out of people. But whatever.  
  
I will say, I walked out of the bathroom at exactly the right time. Poor Specs was changing into a different pair of jeans, and was definitely not wearing anything on the bottom when I walked into the room. I guess this was the problem with living in the same room as the most beautiful man you've ever met. Not that I was complaining. "Ah, shit, sorry, Dutchy." With that, Specs pulled on his boxers and pants, not looking me in the eye.  
  
"I should be saying the same to you," I told him. "I really didn't mind the view. Though really, if you're that ready to get something started here, we should probably send the others away," I joked with a now fully dressed Specs. I pointed to the wall nearby where all of the GDU boys were lined up, as well as a couple others. "So, Race, who're these jokers?" I asked, motioning to the boys I didn't recognize.  
  
"Well, this is Snitch," he said, motioning to a boy beside him. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and straight leg jeans-very Ponyboy from The Outsiders - and had a look of endless youth to his face. Beside him stood a lean boy, and in the light I couldn't distinguish if he was Italian or Hispanic. "And that's Itey," he explained.  
  
Beside those two I noticed someone I sort of recognized. "Aren't you the boy from lunch that day? The one shouting back at the girl?" Then, after a moment of looking at him, I realized he was even more familiar than that. "Wait, I know you, don't I?"  
  
The skinny boy looked back at me. "No, probably not," he said in an even tone, though it came off extremely threatening for someone that size.  
  
"Michael Conlon, how ya been, kid?" I asked. Now I remembered how I knew him, he was in my sophomore English class; I hadn't seen him around during junior year, and now I knew why. "Been running with the wrong crowd?"  
  
"No," he said, staring at me straight on. "I'm not a druggie, if that's what you're implying."  
  
Just as I was about to question him as to what exactly he was doing in Whispering Pines if not drug use, Blink began to motion slitting his throat-and international sign for 'Shut the hell up before you get yourself killed.' So I shut up pretty quickly.  
"Anyone else I need to meet?" I asked, my eyes scanning the boys in front of me. My eyes rested on a taller Hispanic boy and a short African- American boy who looked much younger than the rest.  
  
"Well, I'm Boots. Call me Boots, anyway. Maybe someday I'll tell you my real name, but I'm not exactly a big fan of it. So Boots it is." Whoa that kid knew how to talk. "And this here's Bumlets, but he doesn't know how to talk, I'm convinced." Probably couldn't get a word in edgewise with this hyperactive kid around.  
  
I grinned at the random assortment of boys surrounding me. Who would've thought we were here for rehab? It felt more like camp. Well, except for the counseling sessions - which were completely terrifying - but we'll get into that later. But yes, this was one of those moments when you realize that where you are doesn't matter, so long as good people surround you. And now I sound like a fortune cookie, so I'm going to stop this train of thought, and worry about what's coming up. "So, are we going to meet these girls, or what?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, let's go," Skittery said. He was obviously extremely eager to get to see a certain blonde. I had to laugh.  
  
I was more into brunettes myself . . .  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: Okay, awkward ending place, I know. But I still have to sort through CCs and decide who's coming in where, and I don't want to delay this chapter for like a year while I do that. So yeah, hope you don't mind that not much really happens here. It's kind of an interim chapter. And I'm intro-ing more new characters.  
  
Next Chapter: Alright, we've got them meeting the girls (I bet you're all thinking FINALLY), and hopefully we'll get into the "terrifying" counseling sessions. Did you know I can't spell the word counseling? I've never typed it right without looking at it as I type.  
  
SHOUTOUTS:  
  
klover: Once again, glad you like it. Dude, I really need to come up with a new line in my shoutouts. That gets boring I know. Next time, I'll have my muses do it. But they're sleeping right now, which is probably why this chapter is finished. They like to hibernate.  
  
Thistle: It's a good thing you like the club, because I was actually a little nervous about it. I thought it would be a little weird, but I liked it so I put it in anyway. But it's still nice to get positive feedback on your ideas. So yeah, hope you like this chapter too.  
  
Courtney: Yay! You like it, You really really like it! Heh. Now that I'm done going all Sally Field on your ass, thanks for the nice review. The point of view is new for me (never done 1st person from one of the newsies before), so it's good you enjoy it.  
  
Lady Kayura: Kwanzaa rapping? Do I even want to know? Good thing it's keeping you amused, I'm not really used to writing funny stories really, so yeah. Thanks.  
  
studentnumber24601: Thankees, mate, for the nice and long review. And dude, it was so totally everything that was running through my head when I was writing it. ESPECIALLY the part about Ewan McGregor. And Mush for that matter. And you know, loving gay coke addicts may not be healthy, but it's pretty damn fun, eh? Haha. Hope you liked this chapter too.  
  
Fire: Whee!! Yay-ness. I missed your reviews. Bah, I don't get to see you enough. I saw you tonight, but whatever. Have fun? I'll talk to you Monday I guess. Yeah, well, bye.  
  
Sli: Hey, look, it's you. And you know, I agree with earlier, when we realized that Calhoun makes me want drugs even more than I did before-which was none, by the way. Find irony in the sXe girl writing a story about rehab? Yeah, me too. But whatever. I guess we'll find out what people think of your intro. It's almost the same as it was when you wrote it, just a bit of tweaking with Dutchy's thoughts. Yeah, see you later. 


	5. Kallias

A/N: Okay, I'm a bad bad person who doesn't update, but I have a justification. Way too much stuff going on in this thing they call "reality," and this is a long chapter. It's twelve pages and counting. However, in order to keep myself from being murdered, I offer you a random little ditty of angsty!specs to tide you over. Heh. Let me know what you think, I may do this for other characters too, I already have Spot's starting.  
  
The name's Kallias, but please, don't ever call me that. It's Greek, just like my family. Means 'beautiful.' My mother always loved the name, but I just saw the irony. My whole life is one big lie, beginning with my name. Don't listen to Dutchy if he ever tells you I'm beautiful, he doesn't understand the meaning of the word. No matter how much he compliments what he says is a "flawless" exterior, I'm tainted. Destroyed. No one wants damaged goods.  
  
But when you're on coke, there's no opposition. The street guys love whoever will sell them a cheap stash, and that takes money. All I really wanted was to be loved. The "favors" I got back for the cocaine was where the draw was; the boys got me ten times higher than the drugs themselves. Now tell me, how does that make me beautiful, Mama? Tell me, Da, are you proud of your son who gets blown in exchange for crack? You made me. Showed me the way to get what I want. Whispering Pines Rehabilitation Center? Da, do you honestly think sending me off when I get caught will make up for your own substance abuse?  
  
Mama, I used to love you. I was your beautiful boy. Your little Kallias, the last piece of your illusion. Someday you'll realize that you were my world. You were my world until the day you sent me off. Even while spiraling into the madness of cocaine, I loved you. You weren't exactly a saint yourself, and the apple never falls far from the tree. But when you let Da send me to this hell, you lost me. What happened to that fiery spirit you had before the marriage, even a few years after my birth. You told me not to let them get me, Mama, but look at you.  
  
I don't need you anymore, Mama. I never needed you, Da. I've found the only person left who can color me beautiful. His name's Jayce, it means healing. And he's healing me, Mama, in a way you never could.  
  
We all need something beautiful. Man, I wish I was beautiful. 


	6. Chapitre Cinq

I will say that our hallway is definitely larger than the girls. With all of us crowded into those tiny walkways it was like a mosh pit. Not that I'd ever been in a mosh pit, considering my friends all told me that if I ever went to a punk concert I would get the shit beat out of me. So, basically, what I'm trying to say is that it was crowded. Not that it mattered much, because almost as instantly as Blink finished his second knock the door was open, and all of us were released into one of the dorm rooms.  
  
"We thought you were never going to show up," a nervous looking girl said. She wasn't unclean exactly, she just looked tattered and confused. Her eyes were tinged a slight bit bloodshot, but it was more a fading memory marring her startling grey-blue eyes. "You took a long time to get over here."  
  
An exotic looking auburn haired girl stood up and said, with a hint of seriousness and a large portion of amusement, "And then we would have had to kick your asses."  
  
"Hey, hey. Be kind to the new boy," Skittery told her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. It was evident there was a lot of meaningless flirting going on between them, but it wasn't in a desperate and perky way like most people, it was more subtle and, well, cool. Really, there was always flirting where Skittery was concerned; it followed him everywhere. I guess girls really liked bi guys . . . who knows.  
  
Specs was the next person to speak; he had turned towards the girl that was talking at first. "So, Francie, where are the other girls? I mean, Raven isn't your roommate, so Boston should be around here, shouldn't she? And obviously the rest of the gang."  
  
The poor girl seemed perpetually tense, even as she answered Specs and had no reason to worry about anything. "They're begging Theory to sneak up some kind of food, and then join us. She doesn't want to lose the job, of course, but it'll work itself out eventually. Raven and I were left to wait for you," she answered.  
  
"Yeah, we got stuck sitting around and waiting for you losers," Raven told us, shortening the earlier answer we were given. I have to say, this girl did have a lot of spirit in her; I'd have to remember never to get on her bad side. She sat back down on the bed that I now assumed belonged to a girl named Boston.  
  
"Oh, you know you love us," Race told her, before proceeding to sit on top of her.  
  
The door opened to reveal more girls crammed into the small hallway. I noticed they carried food in their hands, and a moment later noticed that Theory and Jack were standing behind the mob. I couldn't help but grin; Jack had chosen well. If I were straight . . . Well, if I were straight I wouldn't be wearing a neon blue shirt that proclaimed "I KISS BOYS" across the front in rainbow. But that aside, if I were straight I would definitely be intrigued by Theory.  
  
"Higgins, get off my bed before you break it!" a girl shouted from the doorway in an intimidating but joking tone. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing as Race scattered off of the bed and Raven in response to an order from a girl even shorter than himself. A moment later I recognized her as one of the girls from my counseling sessions. I think her name was Stephanie, but I could be wrong about that. "That's better. Anyway, let's get this show on the road. Boston here has the food."  
  
A slightly pudgy girl, who was even shorter than the one who had just spoken approached, bearing gifts of food. She was unspectacular, and yet there was a sort of hidden beauty beyond her utter plainness. Curly black hair, glasses, a plain grey t-shirt and jeans-it was all a sort of façade to hide her inner beauty, I felt.  
  
"Chips, cookies, ice cream, and even a couple of sodas. You've really outdone yourself this time," Snitch announced, before diving straight for the homemade chocolate chip cookies. I could see a certain slender Italian boy watching him with interest, and no, I'm not talking Race. Ah, yes, that boy Itey was definitely most confused. I'd already heard the others say he was still under the assumption that he was straight, but no one could stare that much at their friends ass and still be interested in girls.  
  
"Slow down, boy," another girl said in a mellow tone. I looked up and saw yet another brunette wearing a slashed through DARE shirt inside out. I grinned at the irony of the clothing she wore, considering the situation. "It's not going to disappear," she informed him, jokingly.  
  
And then out came the girl everyone instantly recognized. A certain encounter with our boy Skittery on a cafeteria table had made her infamous among the entire community. Her hair hung long, and it was that shade of golden blonde that so wants to be brown, but shines just a slight bit too much. I laughed out loud at her shirt, which proclaimed in cursive font, 'Real Men Wear Pink.' She took a seat on one of the beds, and sat there in silence, observing the scene.  
  
The girl in the ripped shirt walked towards the girl, who acted indifferent towards the person approaching her. "That would be Slider. She's a bit out of her mind; they think it was the speed. Don't worry though, she's not dangerous or anything."  
  
I glanced her, and started to approach cautiously. Really, it was a comical scene to see: a bunch of highschool age boys frightened by a slightly petit young blonde girl. As I sat down beside her on the bed, and turned to initiate conversation, I felt teeth sinking into my shoulder. "What the fuck?!" I yelled out of surprise. Slider was smirking at me with amusement.  
  
I pulled back the neckline of my shirt to reveal red teeth marks on the left. "She's a bloody vampire!" Kid Blink shouted, alarmed.  
  
Everyone looked at the new girl in anticipation of her next move, and she simply glanced back at all of us with delight on every inch of her face. "What? I just like biting people." And with that she stood and left the room.  
  
So that was it, we'd met her again, and this time only gotten six words out of her. Six. I said more than six words within my first week of talking. And this time she wasn't even on drugs, she was just like this. I couldn't decide whether to be amused or frightened, so I opted for both.  
  
"Anyway," Skittery said with exaggeration as a way of transition. "What oh what shall we do?" Without another thought he went and plopped down on another of the girls from my first session of counseling, Frenchy. She glared at him a bit before warming up to the slender boy on her lap, and allowing him to stay there without death.  
  
"Well, what do you do when you're in a dorm room at drug rehab with a ton of gay men, a handful of straight ones, a couple of closet homosexuals, and a few girls?" asked Raven as if it was an obvious question. Everyone stared blankly for a few minutes before she spoke again. "Play dress up of course!"  
  
At once the room was abuzz with the excitement that only this particular group of people could muster over the potential of playing dress up like four year old girls. "Can I do makeup?" I begged; it had always been my favorite part of the game as a kid.  
  
"Umm . . . sure," Fingers said, giving me an odd look. And before I knew it, someone had chucked massive makeup kit at me, almost as large as the one I owned myself. I opened it up and began insantly mixing the colors, trying to find the perfect eyeshadow for Specs, who was the first victim.  
  
"Specs should fit into most of our clothes. It's Good thing he's a skinny boy," one of the girls said, amused. And with that, one of the most interesting events in the history of Whispering Pines commenced.  
  
And let me say, Specs looked utterly gorgeous and totally fuckable in a perfectly tailored long suede jacket, a pair of lowrise jeans, and a red button down shirt someone had picked up at Express, apparently for a relative's Bat Mitzvah the year before. Jack's black combat boots rounded out the outfit, fitting the look perfectly, in a way that only one in a million people could pull off. I'd had some fun with his makeup though, giving him a smokey black eyeshadow that was the thing last winter, and a slight bit of liquid silver eyeliner, just on the edges.  
  
At that moment, I think every single person in the room knew how in love I was with Specs. It was pretty obvious, considering I was staring blankly and obviously at the attractive boy, most likely drooling in the process.  
  
"Okay, Dutchy next. And I know the perfect shirt for him, I just need to go get it from my room," Raven said before running into her own room. She kept back a minute later, holding a tight black shirt. "Now I borrowed this from my friend, but whatever, she won't care."  
  
I took the shirt from her and laughed. Across the front it simply read "Got Balls?" and on the back it had a picture of a volleyball with the words, "Varsity Volleyball '03-'04... Were you thinking something else?" Along with that came a red plaid kilt. I stared back up at the girl handing me the clothes about to ask what the hell she was thinking. "Ah, c'mon, you're already a flamer, we can't do much to overdo it. And if anyone asks just say you're really Scottish," she answered, laughing out loud as she finished.  
  
"Wait, wait, wait . . . Just who is going to see us in this?" Michael asked, obviously in for more than he bargained for, not that he had exactly agreed to do a makeover in the first place.  
  
"Everyone. You're wearing this tomorrow you know," Fingers informed us all. Some of the boys were utterly phased by the news, but I'd sort have been expecting it. I just went on applying the shimmering dark red eyeshadow, only to be interupted by the door opening behind me suddenly.  
  
I watched interested as Slider pranced into the room, grabbed all of the food on the floor, and walked out. A moment later she came back in and grabbed one cookie that she had dropped-- it was exactly something you would have expected to see in a movie.  
  
A couple of minutes later everyone had once again resumed there positions and more or less forgotten about the random interuption and raid. That was the moment Slider chose to make just another entrace, this time coming and sitting on my lap randomly, grinning. "Hello, lollipop!" she said cheerfully.  
  
"Umm . . . hello," I said back, not knowing why she was calling me the name of a sugary treat that was the enemy of dentists everywhere.  
  
"So, lollipop, what's going on around here, eh?" she asked, observing the state of the dorm room adjacent to her own.  
  
"We're glamming everyone up, really. Makeovers, David Bowie style," I informed her, shifting uncomfortably as she bounced up and down from all the sugar.  
  
This seemed to make her even more excited, however, and she shouted animatedly, "Let me go get my shirts! You'll love them, they're just perfect for all of you!"  
  
And that's how Snitch ended up with a shirt reading, "Let's get one thing straight... I'm not," and how Itey got one reading "Proud Member of the WLNM," on the front and, "We Love Naked Men" on the back. The rest of the boys got other various shirts to this degree, with Sli pulling her own "Real Men Wear Pink" shirt to give to him because he apparently 'looks good in pink.'  
  
Suddenly, Michael spoke up again, this time without his usual threat of violence. "Wait a second, if you're into guys, why do you have a "Lets get one thing straight" shirt?" he asked her.  
  
"It's my 'I don't want ugly guys hitting on me,' shirt," she explained, matter of factly, and went silent again.  
  
That was when I noticed Michael hadn't gotten dressed yet. "Oi, Conlon, get a move on, you've gotta get ready before dawn," I told him.  
  
"No bloody way am I dressed up like some kind of flamboyantly gay man whore," he said angrily.  
  
I took a step back before talking again; I was that intimidated. But before I had the chance to yell at him and force him to participate-- not that I probably would actually do it, but whatever -- Slider stepped forward. "I compel you too."  
  
He glared straight at her. "Who dares 'compel' me to dress as some kind of flamer prostitute?"  
  
"Katrina 'Slider' Madden, who has a master bargaining chip that you'd just love, but you know, maybe I shouldn't offer you my deal if you're that dead set against it."  
  
"Well, I'm always curious to hear my options, so what'll you give me?" he asked, and I could tell he was actually pretty interested.  
  
She was alight with amusement as she spoke next. "I'll make out with you, for one."  
  
Instantly, Conlon was sitting in a chair, getting his hair done by Boston. They were going to do blue streaks to pull out his great eyes, but it didn't mix well with his hair color, so we died it black and then added the blue. It was a good look after all; which was a good thing, since it definitely wasn't temporary dye like we told him.  
  
Once he was dressed up in some red leather pants I'd snuck back to my room to get and a black wifebeater -- think Jonathan Rhys-Meyers in Titus -- Conlon approached Katrina to figure the exact terms of their deal. She just grinned wickedly and pulled him into her own room.  
  
As soon as we heard their door close, another door in the hallway seemed to open. At first, no one thought anything of it, assuming it was another girl on the floor, before remembering that all the girls and boys were in this very room, including Theory, leaving only one person it could be. Medda. Now I will say Medda was preferable to a few people, namely the head, Pulitzer, and Snyder, and Jonathan, and Seitz, but still. She worked for the corporation, so we were all knee-deep in shit right now -- well, it'd probably be closer to waist height with Racetrack, but whatever.  
  
In under a minute, every single person had cleaned the entire room and had hidden all of us underneath the beds and between their trunks and the wall. It felt like a coffin, surrounded on all four sides and unable to even breathe except when fully necessary. Surely enough, as soon as everyone was settled Medda opened the door and started looking around for something out of the ordinary. We were nearly homefree after she looked around for close to five minutes when she noticed the end of the feather boa we'd made Jack wear sticking out from under the bed. Within a second, she was on us like a starving lion on a deer; that is if lion's eat deer-- I'm not a very big fan of the Discovery Channel.  
  
"Everyone, out! Get out from under the beds, and go directly to Pulitzer's office. Every single one of you is breaking one of the main rules here at Whispering Pines, and I am utterly ashamed of you!" Now, usually when people say they're ashamed of me or disappointed in me it bugs me because I don't like to upset other people, but when Medda said it I actually felt oddly proud.  
  
Of course, that feeling started to fade as soon as Mr. Joseph Pulitzer was glaring down at all of us as we faced him in a straight line that reminded me a lot of the army. "You are all going to suffer the consequences of your reckless actions. Staying up past curfew is already bad enough, but to sneak into the girls' rooms -- or, in the girls' case to allow the boys into your room -- is unexceptable. You will be paying for these crimes for quite a while, starting with you spending the next week cleaning every inch of the facilities until we find them acceptable. You will be denied access to your rooms and everything in them until this is finished; girls will spend the night Classroom A and boys will sleep in Classroom B. Any interaction between these two groups will result in the criminals being put in solitary confinement. Have fun, kiddos," he finished with a sarcastic tone, and an evil glint in his eye. He definitely was having fun with this. I was too, actually, knowing that all the boys would be forced to wear their new outfits for the next seven days. And then I remembered that I myself was wearing a skirt. Oh well . . .  
  
That night, as I laid down on the completely bare floor of Classroom B, I remembered that Spot -- which is what Jack always called Conlon for some reason -- and Sli had both been in her room when all of us were discovered, and that I hadn't seen either of them in the office either.  
  
"Hey, Specs, wanna go see what happened to the lovebirds?" I asked, motioning towards the floor above us where the two most likely still were.  
  
The handsome boy rolled over towards me and groaned. "Fine, fine, if you insist." After a pause he turned to the snoring form beside him that hadn't been roused out of it's sleep. "RACETRACK HIGGINS!!" he shouted in the boy's ear, smiling as the body moved into a concious state unhappily. Specs was extremely amused by this, which he justified by saying, "What? I had to get woken up by Jayce here, why do I not get to wake someone else?"  
  
The Italian finally went from grumbling incoherently to shouting back in Specs' ear, "What the hell do you want, dumbass?"  
  
When I noticed Race's hands forming fists, I decided it was probably better to break this up before I had to sleep on a floor covered in blood. "Specs and I were thinking of going up and seeing what happened to Sli and Spot. Want to come?" I offered.  
  
He seemed to consider it a moment before nodding his head and leading the two of us out the door. Almost silently we scurried up the back stairs, since they were far from any of the bedrooms and we most likely wouldn't be noticed that way. As soon as we reached the second floor, however, every ounce of control and silence was lost. The sight of Michael Conlon standing shivering in the hallway was way too comical to not laugh, potential punishments didn't even cross our minds as we starting cracking up.  
  
"The hell happened to you?" Race asked the nude boy in front of us.  
  
The only word he said was, "Slider," and I knew it'd be quite an interesting story.  
  
"Ah, shit, footsteps," Specs said before grabbing my arm and dragging me into a closet. As I stumbled in the dark to an overturned bucket and sat, I could hear the sound of someone's rubber-soled bed slippers hitting the wooden floors as they patrolled the hallway. After a few moments they were gone, and I stood up and turned the doorknob.  
  
It opened about an inch before it was shut again. "Nuh uh," Race's voice informed me. "No way are you two getting out of there. Even Spotty-boy thinks you guys need a bit of time in the closet. We'll get you in the morning." I could hear the two of them laughing as they walked back down the stairs. I turned to face Specs, who had managed to find the cord for the dim lightbulb that was going to provide our only light until the sun rose.  
  
As I kicked the door, it didn't give at all. "Fuck."  
  
Specs was looking up at me, with a hint of a grin on his face. I couldn't help but notice how good he looked, the shirt he was wearing was slightly unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, and the view was definitely better than most. And unless I'm blind, there was a very obvious 'come hither' look playing across his face. And I follow directions like a good boy, so I went right to him. "You know, this floor isn't very comfortable," he paused here, "but there are ways to make it better."  
  
I nearly choked when he said that; I was a nervous wreck. Here was the most gorgeous boy I'd ever seen, cocky and self-assured, and I was reduced to an awkward twelve year old girl meeting Justin Timberlake backstage, paralyzed from all movement and speaking.  
  
Oblivious to what was running through my mind, he grabbed my hand, pulling me to the floor beside him. Before I knew what was going on, I was underneath him, my back pressed hard against the cold concrete floor. "Nervous, sexy?" he asked with a smile. That bastard! He knew exactly what effect he had on me, and was enjoying every minute of it!  
  
I didn't have a chance to respond, considering the moment I opened my mouth to speak it was instantly filled with another boy's tongue. Now I'm not going to be cliched and say that we were 'exploring each other's mouths with our tongues,' but I will say that whatever he was doing felt pretty damn good.  
  
Within a minute I felt his nimble hands searching for the zipper of my skirt -- what, it's not like I could have magically changed! "Wait, no, not yet," I panted, despite how much I honestly wanted to continue. "Not here, not now."  
  
"Not ever?" he asked. He had gotten off of me and was sitting with his back against one of the walls. I could tell he was upset by my stopping him, and yet I knew I'd done the right thing. It's really an odd sensation when you do the right thing but still manage to hurt the one you love; it's like you can't do anything right at all, and I can't stand it.  
  
I snuggled up next to him, and he let me, but didn't mesh into me at all. Instead, he seemed to be tightening his muscles to prevent himself from actually doing anything that could be considered cuddling. "I just, I don't know you well enough to do this. I don't want to be a random lay in a janitor's closet that you forget until one drunken night when you're trading stories with some guys in a bar, and my name pops up, okay? I don't know anything about you. I want to, but I don't right now. So I want to wait, and to get to know you instead of losing you for one lust filled night."  
  
"And when we get to know each other?"  
  
It was my turn to grin at his vulnerability. "We might just find ourselves in another closet."  
  
And that was how we fell asleep, his head on my shoulder, holding hands on his lap, innocent as the daybreak in which Racetrack discovered us the next morning.  
  
Now perhaps I should explain that I'm really a heavy sleeper, and I don't much like people trying to wake me up. Generally I try to attack them, no matter whether they just say something or physically shake me. But, though my heart belongs to Specs, I didn't mind Race's method of waking me at all. In fact, it's quite nice to wake up to find yourself being kissed by a not- too-bad looking Italian.  
  
I opened my eyes to see him in front of me, glancing at Specs. "Don't worry, I'm not going to do that to loverboy, only some people get my special wake up calls, you know. Consider yourself special. Anyway, you do the honors," he said, indicating the sleeping form beside us.  
  
I didn't need much encouragment from Higgins before I turned to the gorgeous boy beside me and kissed him, long and hard. "What in hell was that for?" Specs shouted before turning and realizing who it was. Thinking fast, he added, "baby."  
  
"Nice save, love," I said, in a British accent. "But no, that was me trying out the Racetrack Higgins wake up call, what do you think?"  
  
Specs sat for a moment before processing that, "You mean that bastard kissed my Dutchy?" He started to stand up and try to hit the short boy nearby, but I held him back.  
  
"Oh, be nice, poor guy sure isn't getting any action," I informed him. "So, we willing to forgive and forget?"  
  
Specs looked from me to him and back to me. "Ah, who can blame him?"  
  
And so the three of us left the floor quietly with me humming the 'mission impossible' theme music as our backdrop. Racetrack still had his head, and Specs was holding my hand, so all was right with the world-at that moment at least.  
  
"You little fags! Have a nice sleepover last night?" a boy said, jeering at us. He was pretty small, though not nearly as much as Spot, but it was obvious even through his loose shirt that he could take any of us in a fight. Behind him stood another, presumably his brother since there was a certain similarity about them I couldn't pinpoint. Most people wouldn't even notice, considering the boy was attempting unsuccessfully to grow an attractive mustache resulting in something that more resembled a caterpillar crawling across his face.  
  
My first instinct was to deny knowledge of what they were talking about. "What do you mean? We spent the night with all the other boys in Classroom B as part of our punishment." I offered, though I knew that they had some sort of insider information and wouldn't be fooled.  
  
The first spoke again, obviously being the brains of the family. "Yeah, well, Janitor Weas told us all about the mess in his equipment closet, and seeing you walk out of it at five o'clock. Just the two of you, holding hands. Isn't that cute, Morris?" he said to his brother sarcastically.  
  
I could tell from his smile that he had something up his sleeve that definitely wasn't too good. But I don't run from danger, and I was extremely upset about him ruining what was such a perfect morning after. So I didn't back down. I stood, ready to fight like a man.  
  
"Look at him, he's in a fucking skirt," the boy continued to his brother. "And the other's wearing more makeup than that tart I picked up on Forest and Hill a few weeks ago. I can't fight a guy who reminds me of a whore I slept with once. Get the hell outta my sight, but watch out, I'll be back," he said to us before turning around and walking away, his brother lagging behind.  
  
I turned to the two boys beside me, who were turning pale pretty rapidly. And trust me, you don't see Racetrack scared every day, so I knew something major was up. "Who are those dumbasses?" Neither answered, so I repeated my question.  
  
"Oscar and Morris Delancey. The two biggest homophobes I've ever met in my life, and they're hella good in fights," Race answered, a slight bit of color returning to his cheeks, but slowly. "With you flaunting everything around, and the new boy who's rumored to be just as bad, we're sure to have some skirmishes coming up. I think it'd be best for you two to do what you can be a bit less - how should I put this? - public with your relationship."  
  
As a way of response to that statement, I pulled Specs close to me and kissed him violently, pinning him up against the wall in my fury. "If you want to take his advice, take it, but I'm not letting you go," I whispered in his ear, then took a step back.  
  
"Ah, fuck it. There's only two of them anyway. The boys'll back us in a fight, and really, how much threat can two unattractive brothers who use a janitor as an informant be?" he said, grabbing my hand again as we strolled purposefully towards Classroom B to receive our cleaning assignments for the day. Oh, boy, this was going to be a long week.  
  
I walked into the classroom, which was full of the hustle and bustle of everyone getting ready. Just barely noticable to anyone in the room - in this case myself - there was the sound of someone crying in one of the closets. Concerned, I let the entire room file out in front of me before opening the door. Was I surprised to see that it was Jack who was sobbing insanely? Well, obviously.  
  
"Jack? What's wrong?" I asked him, sitting myself on the floor before closing the door and putting us into total darkness.  
  
He wiped his eyes and tried to speak. "Theory," was all he managed to choke out, but it made me realize his point.  
  
"Damn, I'd forgotten she was there. What's going to happen?" I asked, just as worried about Jack's girlfriend as he was. After all, if it weren't for me we wouldn't have had to go meet the girls, and they wouldn't have dragged Theory out and she wouldn't have been there to get caught.  
  
He tried to gain some semblance of composure, but I knew it was difficult for him. "I told her," he said, before letting out a short gasp. "told her to lie. Say she was stopping us. She said some shit about 'going down with her ship.'" He paused, and then muttered to himself, "Stupid girl." At the risk of sounding cliché, I'll just go ahead and say it anyway. Despite his harsh tones that demonstrated nothing but annoyance and hatred, his dark eyes showed the truth, which was that he simply wanted her to be okay.  
  
I placed a protective hand on his shoulder, gripping him tight. "We won't let anything happen to her, okay? It's because of me you went to see the girls, I'm not going to let her lose everything because of me. Theory is not going to lose her job, I'll do everything in my power to prevent it."  
  
I could read in the nod he gave that he was thankful, but all he said was, "Let's get going, they'll notice we're missing."  
  
I followed him out of the closet, and all of the guy's had already gone off to do our assignment. I saw a note written across the blackboard on the wall, and read it quickly. "Dutchy and Jack, we're going to clean all the hallways. Come join us when you can, we'll cover for you if we have to. -Specs."  
  
"That reminds me," Jack said, trying to put himself in better spirits. After all, tough-ass alcoholic punk boys didn't cry in closets. "How're things with you and little Specsy?" he taunted.  
  
I knew he was trying to get under my skin, but really, I wasn't at all annoyed. I felt enough pity for him, but otherwise I would have tried to deck him because of the Delancey encounter earlier. "Good, really. Had quite a bit of fun in a closet last night.."  
  
He stared at me in shock. "You and he." he motioned with his hands, to avoid finishing his sentence. Finally, he managed to say it. "You guys fucked?"  
  
I tired to keep in my laughter, but I couldn't. "Of course not! I'm not a cheap whore you know." I laughed again; I hadn't had a conversation like this since a couple days after I first came out. People just stopped asking questions after a while. "If ya promise you aren't going to tell anyone," I paused, and he nodded to show he agreed to my terms. "I'm actually still a virgin. In all senses of the word, really. Never even gone past making out."  
  
"But, I mean, you're such a little seductress," he stated, surprised.  
  
I grinned, it was my turn to taunt him. "You've noticed, eh? Want me back in that closet?"  
  
He turned around and opened the door for me. "Ladies first," he said, kicking me out the door. It was great to see his joking side back in place, but I knew it wouldn't last long. Jack might have a fun side, but he had to be tough in front of the boys-he was somewhat their leader. "Seriously though, what did happen between you two?"  
  
"And why would I tell you?" I asked, quite amused that such a straight arrow was asking what had happened between me and my gay lover during the night. "Thinking of coming over to the dark side? I'm sure someone would find you tolerable."  
  
"Why you little!!" he shouted, and began chasing me through the hallway. I dashed and dodged towards our final destination, having more fun than I had in years-ironically enough it was during punishment at drug rehab.  
  
Specs caught me in his arms and swung me around before placing a quick kiss on my forehead in a very condescending way. "And what do you think you're doing to my little Dutchy?" he asked, adopting the tone of a concerned mother before bursting into a fit of laughter.  
  
I slapped him lightly. "I'm not two, you know. I can handle a real kiss," I informed him haughtily, smirking.  
  
"Like this one?" With those three words he pulled my head towards his and proceeded to kiss me extremely sexily, directly in front of all of the boys. After about a minute of being stared at, we broke apart.  
  
I glared at them for ruining my romantic moment before turning to my sexy Greek lover. "Did I handle it well enough for you?" I allowed the arm that was still wrapped around his waist to slide lower. "Or do you need more?"  
  
"I could use a second try before making my executive decision," he answered, barely finishing his sentence as I brought him back into another kiss. "Yes, yes, you most definitely can hold your own under these circumstances."  
  
"Why thank you," I said before turning to Racetrack, who was standing nearest the two of us. "Anyway, what's today's assignment?"  
  
The Italian stepped forward. "Every hallway. We've got some buckets and rags over here. Have fun, this could take a while. Girls should be helping us, so it could be worse. Don't fuck this up, I'm not doing this ever again after Saturday."  
  
"Of course," I said, grabbing a red rag from the soapy water. With a quick glance at Specs and a smirk, I tossed said rag at Race's head.  
  
And thus commenced the fight that resulted in another week of cleaning duty for us, but this time with counseling in between. Sleep did not seem welcome here at Whispering Pines, that's for sure.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: Okay, I originally intended to end this at a later place, but whatever. By popular request - well, actually, just one annoying real life friend-I'm going to have a Christmas chapter out within the week, though I'm not really sure about how long it is going to be.  
  
SHOUTOUTS: THE PART YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR . . .  
  
B: Yesh, pantless!specs would be nice. I'm more of a pantsless!race girl myself, but that's entirely beside the point. And yeah, staying up till obscene hours for fanfic is always good. Haha. I know you were looking forward to it, but I had to hold back the counseling scenes yet again (and they're all in my head, so it sucks). Hope you like it though. And yeah, most definitely "Mr. Jones" lyrics. They're actually what inspired the story. Well, that and the two names being unintentional perfect in meaning.  
  
Sli: All I can say is . . . GRAMMAR, my friend, GRAMMAR. Haha, just kidding. I love you. I just told you that, so I'll tell you again. You have nice hands also. And you made me a pretty blanket. Well, I'm assuming it's pretty. I wouldn't know since you DIDN'T BRING IT!! Haha. Thanks for annoying the shit outta me to update until I finally did. Mucho love.  
  
Milfy: OMFG . . . Was it called 1776? And had the guy who plays Feeny in it? Damn, I was obsessed with that movie for like-two years. I was such a loser at age 7. Hehe. Damn the man, save the empire. I must watch it again. I own it, but I think my friend has it. Hmm. Oh, and glad you liked the little short. I wasn't sure what people would think, but I think I'll do it again, cuz people seem to like them.  
  
Lady Kayura: Glad you like it. And guess what? Arin is going to appear in the next chapter! Like whoa. I tried to work him into this one, but he didn't like me, so it didn't happen. But he will be. Yes, he will be!!  
  
Raven: I didn't really hurry, but whatever. And guess what? Sli, straightjacket girl, has decided she wants you to be her "roommate" in Whispering Pines. So yeah, you have the coolest roommate. (And I'm not just saying that cuz she'll kick my ass if I don't). Hehe.  
  
Thistle: Spot may not be nice, but he's daaaaaamn sexi.  
  
Shot: Glad you like it so much. And I apologize muchly for making you wait "impatiently" so long for me to update. Life was all busy and stuff for a while. But I'm hoping it won't take this long again.  
  
Klover: The muses have woken up. It's the "Holiday Break" end of hibernation. Hehe. And yes, the bad images are a problem with that. But at least he's happy now, right?  
  
Fists: You're a loser. I love you. Haha. And thanks sooooo much for the 'Hattan bag. It's dead shexi.  
  
Frenchy: Of course bi guys kick ass. They're datable gay guys. I mean, c'mon. LOL. You get him though, so no stress.  
  
Nakaia Aidan-Sun: Dude, I totally forgive you for the not reviewing. School's a bitch, I would know. Glad you did come review eventually though.  
  
Kellyanne: No, no, it's okay. That definitely made me love Specs more, and the whole thing was in my head anyway. Makes you all pity-ish towards him, and makes you want to hug him, right? Yes, that is the appeal of angsty!specs. But you see, this chapter is dedicated to fluffy!specs, because he's tired of angst right now. Haha. 


	7. Chapitre Six

Needless to say, we served out the rest of our punishment well enough - I'm still alive, aren't I? Not that it was fun, but hey, we weren't stuck in sessions with those homophobic bastard brothers, so Specs and I were having quite a bit of fun together; the deep red mark on my neck being a testament to that.  
  
So we made it through that week, and things were looking up. Four new kids had joined our ranks, and a frequent visitor kept us in touch with the outside world. Oddly enough, three of the newbies were related. David, Sarah, and Les Jacobs. The story really is quite an odd one. You see, Les - who, by the way is near ten only - was caught drinking by his parents. Unfortunately for his older brother, David was in the same room when they were discovered, and Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs blamed him for his younger brother's alcoholism. Then, there was Sarah. Now this is where things get complicated. As well as I could tell, she had once dated Jack out in the real world. While hanging out with him, she got into drinking, which led her to a small bar outside the city. She began quickly hooked on the beers at this bar, and found that no other's would satisfy. After nearly three months, the bar was closed down for putting some drug - I can't remember which at the moment, people's reasons for being here tend to blur in my mind - into their alcohol. And thus, Sarah was addicted and eventually found out by her parents.  
  
And the fourth kid, you ask. A Miss Katie 'Fingers' Sora. Just your normal little outcast - infatuated with Pink Floyd, anime, and shrooms. I had only seen her once, and just barely under layer upon layer of long brown hair, so I can't be considered the authority on Katie.  
  
Ah, yes, the visitor. A friend of Slider's, actually. Her name is Spark; at least, that's the only name we know her by. She's slightly chubby, but at least her clothes flatter her body. Her chest was visibly larger than most of the girls. Her hair was cut in a choppy style that would be expected of a Toni & Guy model, and her dark eyes were constantly alight with amusement. Nearly every time she came she wore a similar outfit - a short black pleated skirt, flip flops, and a grey Juicy Couture cashmere sweater. Thick black eyeliner surrounded her eyes, making them even more startling.  
  
And why do we love Spark? Speed, of course. Yes, that's right, Spark is our source of sanity. She has -- at last count-- found six different ways to get the drugs into her friend, and insists she shares the wealth with the rest of us. And let me tell you, that's quite interesting. So she kept us happy through all of the dreary and cold December.  
  
And then Christmas rolled around. Now, my family wasn't exactly the most religious in the world, but there was one thing we did right, and that was Christmas. I'm talking an eleven foot tree, decorated by yours truly with all the ornaments we'd collected over the years. It wasn't elegant, like some, but it was gorgeous all the same. All of our gifts were wrapped in gold paper, and my mother always added elaborate bows in the same navy blue ribbon. At six in the morning, without fail, we started opening the presents, and several mugs of caramel apple cider later we would still be sitting in the parlor, talking calmly.  
  
I had sincerely doubted Christmas here at Whispering Pines was going to be the same. And I was completely correct. It all started two days before Christmas. The minute I arrived in group discussion, Medda had a "special" assignment for us.  
  
"Boys and girls, I'd like you all to write a letter to Santa, outlining exactly what you want for Christmas," she informed us perkily. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Asking a room full of teenage boys and girls to write letters to the perfect example of walking obesity. There's my one true vanity (not that I don't have about fifty others)-I pride myself in my extremely thin frame.  
  
Snickering, each of us took the sheet of paper, and wrote down random things. Most of us figured that as long as we had to do this, we could fuck with the administration. Everyone's letter pretty much resembled this:  
  
Dear Santa, If you are real, please get me the hell out of here. I need more ecstasy. Save me. Please. Also, I could use some money to buy more drugs when I get out of here. And a gun. Because guns are cool. Oh, and sex. Lots and lots of sex. Sex with Specs. Sincerely, Jayce  
  
Or maybe that's just me . . .  
  
Either way, when I finally looked up from my letter, I realized that everyone in the room was staring directly at Slider, who was glaring back at them. Finally, Medda spoke. "Why aren't you writing a letter?"  
  
Without a word, the girl walked out of the room and returned five minutes later holding a box labeled "Santa." Hastily she emptied out the contents of the box, which were presumably letters to the aforementioned fat man. "He never writes back."  
  
Out of curiosity, I picked up one of the lined sheets of notebook paper that had fallen to the ground. I looked at the words scrawled across the paper for a moment, before commenting loudly, "What the hell language is this in?"  
  
Before I could even bat an eyelash, Skittery had grabbed the paper out of my hand. "Français," he said with a heavy accent. "Le langue d'amour." With that he began reading, snickering quite a lot as he read. He glanced up at Slider, "Pour Dutchy, je veut Specs, avec peut-etre un entortillement cachot?" he read, questioningly.  
  
"Oui, oui. Tu pense que c'est un bonne idée?" she asked eagerly.  
  
Before Skittery said anything else, Michael interrupted angrily, "English, s'il vous plait!"  
  
The taller boy grinned. "Oh, but you're in here, Conlon. Now don't you wish you'd paid attention in your foreign language class?"  
  
The other boy grabbed the paper determinedly and scanned it for his name. He tried to translate the message around it, grossly mispronouncing every word along the way, but to no avail. Finally, he threw down the page in frustration before storming out the room.  
  
"So, what did the letter say?" Specs asked curiously.  
  
Slider moved swiftly from the room, and Skittery started to explain part of it. "Well, essentially, it says she wants Conlon. Naked. With handcuffs and whipped cream. And I think we should give her her Christmas wish, what do you say?" he whispered, trying to keep his voice low enough that Medda didn't understand.  
  
Every boy and girl in the huddle grinned and nodded their heads in agreement, and we began to formulate a plan. And let me tell you, it's not an easy thing to achieve. But just as we were starting to get somewhere with the planning, Sli popped back into the room, and strode purposefully over.  
  
She pried the letter from Skitts' hands and started to head back out before Medda's hand grabbed her shoulder and led her back to the plastic chair. "Oh, no you don't. We're reading these Santa letters in order to get to know one another better. And you can go first, Miss Madden."  
  
She sat down and faced forward towards Medda, refusing to be intimidated. She started reading the letter, entirely in the language it was penned in, while Skittery tried to translate the highlights to those around him. As far as I could tell, it started with some pretty good puns about Spark's time in the red light district and Santa's red coat. Then, of course, were the infamous Conlon lines. A moment later I heard my name, follow instantly by a, "No, wait, can't read that." Another sentences later, "Nope, nope. Not reading this either," came out of her mouth. Skitts laughed, evidently knowing exactly what those portions of the letters included. "Oh, but wait, you two need to hear this.. 'P.S. I know Dutchy is a bit scared of relationships, and Specs is afraid of getting hurt, but they are good for each other. Please let them be together."  
  
I was blushing madly at this point, and I could tell Specs was too. Tilting my head slightly, I stole a glance at my boyfriend nervously, but I couldn't maintain eye contact very long. Maybe I'm too easily embarrassed, but this was mortifying for me. Except it couldn't be, because I could tell her wishes were true, despite her seeming to be so removed from us emotionally. I flashed her a quick grin of thanks before looking down at the hands twisting around in my lap again.  
  
David Jacobs was the next person in the circle to read his Santa letter, and let me just say it was quite interesting. I don't know what else to say to describe it other than that. "Dear Santa, I loathe you with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. You are a sadistic illusion created to keep young children complacent. Sincerely, David Jacobs. P.S. Jews are better."  
  
Les looked up with tears in his eyes. "Santa isn't real?" he begged his older brother.  
  
Racetrack immediately rushed to the kid's side, "It's okay . . . you're Jewish. You have . . . the holiday armadillo!" he said, in perfect imitation of Ross on that episode of Friends that seems to be on every single day.  
  
I noticed a couple of grins around he room, and everyone just glanced at each other holding in their laughter until finally one by one we all exploded into snickers. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, Medda let us all out of the room.  
  
"Oi, Dutchers, get over here," Race shouted across the hallway as I started to head up to my room. "We've got some planning to do."  
  
"Since when did you turn into a bloody annoying Brit?" I asked the Italian beside me, earning a whack on the head from Jack. I had forgotten all about his being born in England. I reached up and rubbed my head, "Damn, that's gonna leave a mark."  
  
Specs got a wicked grin on his face. "Let me kiss it and make it better!" he shouted happily, before doing just that. I smiled sheepishly, knowing I was once again blushing, when I felt his lips on my neck.  
  
"Calm down, Specsy, I'm pretty sure all I hit was his head," Jack said, cutting us off, which was probably a wise move, considering I was getting close to starting in myself. "Anyway, weren't we discussing another couple right now?"  
  
Skittery took charge at this point, doling out orders to all of us. Race and I ended up with the task of calling Spark, who we were going to ask to deliver the necessary items. As soon as we finished talking, the two of us headed up to my room, since Race roomed with Conlon.  
  
I let Race make the call off of my cell phone since they knew each other better, and I sat back and listened. "Heya, hot stuff. I was, uh, wondering if you could get some stuff for me." He leaned back in the chair as she spoke. "Yeah, it's a little gift for Sli. We need some whipped cream and a set of handcuffs." I could hear a faint laugh over the line. "I knew you'd deliver. I owe you one. Love ya." And with that he hung up the phone.  
  
"What's with the blatant flirting, Race? I thought you were gay?" I asked him, curious.  
  
He looked at me. "I've seen the light at the end of the tunnel! I never thought I'd say that, but I have. Now I understand Conlon. Not that it wasn't fun to watch him walk around naked that night when Katrina took all his clothes and threw him into the hallway, but still."  
  
I looked at him in shock. "So you two . . . ?"  
  
"No, no, we aren't together. Not that I would mind, but we're just friends. And hey, don't take this the wrong way, I'm not abandoning you guys. I'm just broadening my horizons. Really."  
  
"Next thing we know you're going to be running around shouting 'Boobs' at the top of your lungs," I said, with an exaggerated sigh.  
  
He grinned. "There is nothing wrong with boobs, but I'm not turning thirteen again, so don't worry."  
  
Our conversation was cut short by Specs entering the room, informing us he had finished his part, and that we were all off the hook until tomorrow, when the plan was actually going into action. So maybe it wasn't traditional Christmas, but at least this gave us some amusement. "Now, Race, if you'll excuse us - we haven't 'broadened our horizons' and I'm pretty sure we can find a good way to spend this time," I told him.  
  
"Now, don't have too much fun," he said, acting like a mother before heading out the door.  
  
Immediately, my sexy roommate was holding me hostage against the bed. "You know, we should see if we can steal some whipped cream out of Slider's room tomorrow," he stated as he brushed his lips against mine. "Have a sweet tooth?"  
  
"Damn," I said, though it came out as half a moan. I'd never been this drawn to a boyfriend before. I was the good little mama's boy, as I'd confessed to Jack earlier. But with Specs, all those morals and virtues I'd been taught went out the window. He nipped at my ear a few times before I had to push him away. "Now's not the time, Specs. A quick screw in a rehab dorm isn't exactly the romantic vision I have of the two of us sharing that. Sorry," I said, apologetically.  
  
He backed away. "Well, I'm turning in for the night," he said as if it were any other night, but I could sense he was upset.  
  
I wanted to comfort him, but instead I just slid under the covers of my own bed and lay there in silence until sleep came.  
  
Sun bored in through the windows last morning, and made the snow seem orange under it's light. It was a beautiful yet harsh day outside, and I couldn't help but compare it to the boy sleeping across the room. I walked towards him and laid a light kiss on his forehead; he tried to pretend he was asleep, but his eyes flickered open for just a moment, revealing that he was awake.  
  
"Morning, beautiful," I said, smiling.  
  
He looked up from his pillow. "Same to you, mi querido." His hand reached up and brushed my hair out of my eyes. "But now we have breakfast to attend, and then we're off the rest of the day in the 'Christmas spirit.' Spark's coming around three, so you'll have to go with Race to get the goods, while Raven distracts Sli."  
  
"Nice to know you still have the ability to kill a romantic moment," I joked before heading off to get in the shower. I came out twenty minutes later to a fully dressed Specs sitting on my bed, holding a flower.  
  
"Sorry, mi querido, I'm new to this whole relationship thing," he apologized before kissing me on the cheek. "I'm trying, but you have to help me."  
  
At the risk of sounding cliché, I'll say this. A smile broke out on my face like a disease, and I grabbed his hand. "Places to go, people to see," I said in a mocking tone.  
  
"Hey!" he shouted out before chasing me down the hallway.  
  
Sure enough, come three o'clock, Spark had shown up with everything we'd asked for. Her friend was being held hostage in her dorm my Specs and Raven- I can only imagine that scene.  
  
"Well, thanks, we owe you," I told her, taking them from her.  
  
She grinned, "Helping you guys is what I'm here for," she stated before walking up to Race and kissing him. "Well, helping you and seeing this stud muffin." She laughed flirtatiously before heading back out with the security guards.  
  
My partner in crime just stood, stock still, in amazement. "That was - amazing. I'm serious, Dutchers, girls are - heaven."  
  
"Why'd you ever think you were gay?" I asked, out of random curiosity, and need for a conversation topic.  
  
He gulped some air before speaking. "My foster father, the second one, he . . . umm," Race paused. "He sexually harassed me, and his wife found out, and called me a fucking fag. So I just assumed that's how I was. But he haunts me, and with Spark, it's different."  
  
I placed hand on his shoulder, unsure of how to help him cope. It's amazing how fast the mood could change around this place, it's like living with multiple women with constant PMS. "It's not your fault he did that, Racetrack. And if you liked it, it's not because you're a bad person. If you love Spark, you love her; just like if you loved Spot, you would love him. It's different than what passed between you and that horrible man. You're a great guy, Race."  
  
"I needed that," was all he said before walking away. I was a little worried about him, but he could handle himself. If multiple years in and out of foster homes and battling heroin addictions hadn't hurt him, one harsh memory wouldn't kill him.  
  
A few minutes later I rushed off towards the cafeteria, where we were meeting for the day. The girls were going to take Sli out, I think Boston was going to make up some story about liking Blink - except, what most of the boys didn't realize, particularly Blink, is that she wasn't making that story up. But I didn't have time to worry about how my friends were pursuing-I had a naked Conlon to deliver.  
  
"All right, Mission: Fluffy is about to commence," Skittery announced when I got to the table.  
  
I stared at him, "Mission . . . fluffy?"  
  
"What? I felt like saying the word fluffy. Fine, is "All I Want For Christmas Is Sex" a better mission title?" he said offhandedly, joking.  
  
"Yes, I think it is," I said, enjoying the look on his face. "But according to my calculations, our next mission should be called . . . Spot."  
  
Everyone at the table stared at me. "Now where did that come from?" Specs finally asked.  
  
I pointed to the table where the word in question had been scratched with a knife. "It sounds cool, too. I mean, c'mon, Mission: Spot or Mission: Fluffy?"  
  
"You win," Skittery said to me when the nods of consent rained down upon my name. He held out his hand to me and I shook it, amused.  
  
After the plans were discussed, we all went back to our rooms to change. As everyone put on an all-black ensemble in their rooms, I turned to Specs. "Umm . . . I don't have any black clothes," I admitted, embarrassed.  
  
He stared at me incredulously before tossing me a button down shirt and some slacks. "Oh, now I'm a high end Goth. I feel Fifth Avenue," I teased before a pillow hit me in the head. "Now, that wasn't very nice."  
  
"Loser," he mouthed before exiting the room. I finished buttoning the last of the cream colored buttons before following him out. All of the boys were in the hallway, completely ready to take action.  
  
I started humming the Mission Impossible theme, before scanning the hallway, my back pressed up against the white walls and my hands forming a fake gun. I spoke into my sleeve like in the movies, calling for 'reinforcements' because the 'subject was spotted.'  
  
Five seconds later, my fun was ruined by Jack's reasoning. "We don't have walkie talkies, just talk to us."  
  
I stared, exasperated. "Spot is at the other end of the fucking hallway," I responded, more than slightly annoyed.  
  
A chorus of worried curses filled the group, before Skittery once again took the lead. "Just grab him, take him into the closet, and gag him. From there we'll figure out what to do next," he said.  
  
We all rushed off, grabbing the skinny boy and covering his mouth in duct tape. "Listen, we've got something we've got to do . . ." I heard Racetrack say before peeling away layer after layer of Spot's clothing. I could only imagine how surprised he would be when he realized our real verdict - he looked as if he was fearing something closer to rape. "You're Sli's gift for Christmas. Well you doused in unhealthy amounts of whipped cream. Handcuffed to a bed . . . but those are minor details."  
  
We headed towards the girl's dorms, a nearly completely naked Spot in my arms. We'd left on his boxers, but that was it. It frightened me, that boy was skin and bones. I still wasn't quite sure what he was in for, but it was considerably more obvious as the days went by. We were all so fucked up. We was amazing we still had a sense of humor at all.  
  
But that was what kept us going. And I wasn't going to let a frail teenage boy kill my natural high. So I looked down at him, "Well, this is awkward."  
  
"Nah, really?" he spat out. It was a harsh tone, but I'm pretty good at reading people, and I knew by now that this was just an act. I also knew he was interested in Sli, so you know, it wasn't like he was doing this at great personal sacrifice.  
  
I took a sharp left into Sli's room, which was quite interesting really. The sign on the door read "Normalcy is for Morons: Enter and leave your sanity at the door," and it wasn't kidding. It was filled with posters for bands I'd never heard of before. Signs were a big hit too, apparently, considering the "Estrogen Only" one gracing the bathroom door. And a lot of Pink Floyd, which just made me remember the clubs from before I got here. All along the walls were random words and phrases that were written on in Sharpie. Old pictures hang alongside letters from various friends and family. The floor was coated in things, it was a mess they could find anything at all in here-they probably couldn't.  
  
Someone had replaced their white bed sheets with black ones, and I assumed that was Raven, since she was leading us to the other bed. I got a quick glimpse at her half of the room, surprised at how personal the entire room had become so quickly. A pair of pointe shoes were dangling from a post on the wall, and the entire thing was filled with various pieces of everything - sheet music, poems, those little things that came inside CD cases.  
  
Slider's bed was quite interesting. The sheets were pink, and an oddly flat panda stuffed animal peeked up from beneath the pink. Fairy wings - which also reminded me of the rave scene - hung off one bedpost, and shoeboxes were labeled as to what they contained and stowed underneath the bed. Among the boxes were some labels that definitely caught my eyes. Things like 'Castration Devices' and 'Four Cornerstones' made me wonder about her sanity. But then again, I'd wondered that since the day she showed up.  
  
Raven just laughed when Spot looked at her with frightened eyes, and helped us to handcuff him to the bedposts. We all started laughing at the sight before us as Skittery set down the whipped cream can beside him. "And now, we'll be leaving," he said, before starting towards the door. A second later he had turned around, "Oh shit. I hear them. Rave, help!"  
  
"Get under the bed, I'll push the sheet off enough that we're hidden. I'm not supposed to be here either, remember? God, this is the last thing I want to have to listen to," she said, before doing exactly that.  
  
True to movie-script luck, we were all hidden in place literally three seconds before the door opened. An outrageous shriek erupted from the doorway as the surprised girl realized just what was lying on her bed on Christmas Eve.  
  
I turned to Rave. "I can't see anything, I can't hear anything, and there's a bloody shoebox pressing into the middle of my stomach," I ranted.  
  
She just pressed a finger to her lips and tried not too laugh too hard about my complaints.  
  
Suddenly, the bed shifted slightly across the room. "Do you hear that?" Sli whispered to the boy beside her.  
  
I smiled my first pure smile in a long time when I glanced at the two through the tiniest crack I could find. Sli had covered his entire bottom half with a blanket, and was simply laying beside him with her head on his chest, talking. I have a feeling that what we'd assumed from the whipped cream fantasy request wasn't exactly what was going to happen. It was just so . . . sweet. Absolutely no pun intended, I swear.  
  
A moment later, that image was shattered by Race's swearing when he knocked over a shoebox or something else lying on the ground. He picked up an object lying on the ground. "What the fuck is this?"  
  
"A mummified monkey's paw," Specs joked. We all stared wide-eyed at him. "Just kidding. You guys mean you never saw that episode of the Monkees? Damn, you're deprived."  
  
"I think we have an audience," Sli said before standing up and pulling back the dark comforter on her roommate's bed. "Why are you guys here?"  
  
Skittery looked up. "You got here early," he informed her, matter-of- factly. "But I think we'll be going now."  
  
Before the stunned girl could say anything else, we all zoomed out of the room at top speed. Fortunately, she let us off easy, probably due to the voice on her bed lazily calling her back. I smirked as I reached the end of the hallway, amused by the situation. I had definitely not expected the scene that was lying out in front of me, but I have to admit I was quite a bit jealous. Not to say that Specs and I weren't in an emotional relationship at all, but most of the time we touched it was passionate, lustful. Romance wasn't his strong point; Sli had hit the nail on the head in counseling, he was afraid to be hurt again.  
  
When we got back to our dorm, I had a couple questions for my boyfriend. "Specsy, have you ever fallen in love before?" I asked him, trying to sound innocent.  
  
"Dutchy," he said, then paused. "Jayce," he started again. I could tell this wasn't going to be a lighthearted conversation, he only used my real name when he was getting ready to say something that would get him rather emotional. "I don't know where that question came from, but I'm not going to lie to you. I've fallen in love before, okay? His name was Adam, what more do you need to know?" he asked, defensive, which wasn't surprising, since I'd probably brought up the most hurtful part of his past besides his parents.  
  
I slid an arm cautiously around his shoulders and let him rest his head on mine. "It's just that I want to know more about you. Every time things get romantic . . . you just sort of shrink back; I just don't want to make you uncomfortable with anything."  
  
"You're so pure, Jayce, you're so innocent. What do you want me for?" he asked, tears streaming out of his eyes. I bit my tongue to prevent a tirade about him being insane; he was finally talking, I wasn't going to interrupt. "Well, Adam was a friend. A really good friend, he spent every waking moment at my house; sometimes nights. When I realized I was gay, he was right along with me, and helped me deal with it. He never revealed my secret, and when I asked him why not one day, he admitted to his own bisexuality. Knowing this, I could no longer hold back the feelings that had been developing for the previous year. Then his parents found out." He choked back some tears.  
  
"What happened?" I asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.  
  
His head fell onto my shoulder once again. "Sent him to a military school - in Alaska. That was the end of that. He called a couple times, let me know he'd met a nice girl up there, and that I should try hard to move on. I know he didn't mean to abandon me and was just trying to make the best of it, but . . . I thought I'd never get past him. For a year I didn't, that's when the cocaine started." He stopped and looked up at me. "But I have you now," he told me, and I gasped when I saw his tear-filled eyes. Inside them I could see a Specs I'd never seen before, I could see the real Kallias shining out.  
  
I laid down on the bed beside the boy that was my other half. Wrapping my arms around his slender frame, I kissed him softly. We spent the night in that embrace, seeking comfort from each others arms. "I love you," I whispered into the darkness when I was sure he was asleep.  
  
When I woke up the next day, Skittery and Slider were grinning down on the two of us, with Spot blocking the door. Since we couldn't escape, we surrendered to the blindfolds they placed on us. I questioned the entire day where we were going, but no one would sacrifice any information.  
  
Finally, we passed through the last threshold, and the cloth was removed. I glanced around the room, which was painted to look like the inside of a castle in the Middle Ages. I looked up at the two, "What the hell?"  
  
Skittery just pointed to a sign. "Le entortillement cachot de Dutchy et Specs" It said in large letters. Beneath these, someone else had quickly scrawled, "Translation: Specs & Dutchy's kinky dungeon. I glanced around and noticed a large bed with a fluffy white comforter, and various unmentionable "toys" on the walls. "Have fun," he said under his breath before waltzing out the door and locking it with a click.  
  
Fuck.  
  
"Well?" Specs asked before plopping down on the bed. "What should we do? Your call."  
  
I surveyed my surroundings once more and began plotting the death of the two who had stuck us in this extremely awkward situation. Then again, I guess I deserved it, considering what I had done for Spot and Slider. Maybe this was their way of paying me back-they couldn't know I was a virgin, only Jack had that information. "Do you think they're watching us? I think I hear something."  
  
"Turning into a paranoid schizophrenic on me, are you?" he asked, laughing. He sat down behind me and started to massage my shoulders, "You're too tense, we need to lose this tension," he told me. After a couple of minutes, it was determined that we had to lose my shirt as well. Too help with the massage, he said.  
  
I grinned wickedly and turned around. "I really don't like the pattern on that shirt, I think it may just have to go," I informed him, trying to sound businesslike. I helped him unbutton it and cast if off to the side of the room where mine was too. I laid back, setting my head in his lap. "You're absolutely beautiful, did you know that?"  
  
"I thought I told you not to say that," he responded, stiffening slightly.  
  
I sat up and faced him. "You're not evil, you know. You're gorgeous, no matter how many flaws you see in yourself. Last night, I saw him; last night, I saw the real Kallias. He's not gone, he's just hidden a bit. I love Specs and Kallias, but don't try to deny that you're both of them."  
  
He just stared at me, his face blank, frighteningly so. I can generally read people, but I was sincerely at a loss at this point. I knew this was hard for him to take, it was a subject he often ignored. "Dutchers, you're right, you know. You're right and . . . well . . . I love you for it," he finally managed to finish.  
  
Before I could respond, he grabbed my neck and pulled me towards him, kissing me passionately, yet more gently than ever before. Slowly, we drifted towards the bed . . . the floor was not at all comfortable. Shoes were kicked off, but nothing beyond that. My hands tangled with his locks like dark chocolate. I moaned slightly when he finally let off, disappointed.  
  
"Listen, mi querido, I know where this is headed, and I want to make sure you're okay with it. I'm not going to take advantage of you today if it's going to mess us up down the line," he said, loosening his grip a slight bit to allow room between our bare chests.  
  
I smiled, wondering if he knew just how much I loved him right then. "I know what I'm doing, Specs, I'm a big boy," I told him before pulling him into a tighter embrace and meeting his lips once again.  
  
A/N: Okay. I'm a horrible horrible person. I'm nearly a month and a half late with a chapter, and I leave you hanging like this. It's a long story really. See, I got lazy over winter break, and then I had exams, so my plot bunnies ran away. And THEN, I sent my muses after the plot bunnies and well. there's nothing now. Heh. Forgive me, please!!  
  
SHOUTOUTS:  
  
Studentnumber24601- I'm so sorry I didn't update for quite a while. But at least you get some cute and sexy Specs/Dutchy moments, right? So it's at least partially worth the wait. And again, naked Spot. Because apparently I like naked Spot. who doesn't? And there shall be more mansex, so never fear. And eventually, I might just write the counseling sessions. Somehow they always get shoved to the backseat after mansex. Gee, wonder why? LOL.  
  
Raven- Yay! I'm glad I got the character right. And of course, you now have you time as Sli's roommate. There'll be more, but. Heh. Mucho Specs & Dutchy here, so yay!  
  
Thistle- Yes, poor Spot. But now, Spot is all happy. I think. And yeah. I didn't update for a while, but hey, late is better than never, right?  
  
Mandinka Warrior- You're crazy.  
  
Kat- Wow. Way too much to say in an SO. But a number of things. 1) Send me what you have written. 2) You slum for me still! I feel honored! 3) I'm so sorry for getting you mad at me and all that stuff, please forgive me!!  
  
Faytheless- I got worse. Please don't hate me. Heh. But I rock? I feel special. You can revoke that title for now, since I don't update. BUT I WANT IT BACK!! So I'll update again soon. Seriously. Not lying this time.  
  
Frenchers- Of course bi guys are awesome. And Brit accents too. I'm going to marry the first British bi guy I find. Seriously. Heh. Oooo! And I can meet him in an "orgy pit." xDDD  
  
Sam- *new reviewer dance* Thanks. Glad you like it. 


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